Halkegenia Online v3 – Chapter 7 – Part 1

The waiting was nearly over. She was almost ready, Shiori thought as her feet dangled off the edge of her perch, just one twig of a branch among the Harbor Tree's crown. In the dark of the night, tucked away far from the inviting lights of the ship's cradles in the higher branches, no one had noticed her, and nobody would.

The dim streets of Kingston on Hull spread out below her like an Escher hedge maze, beneath one of her anyways. Mahou Shiori tilted her head, eyes focusing on a particular building that stood almost directly underneath her. Barnard was supposed to be arriving shortly, but her sword and dagger selves weren't in position just yet.

Mahou Shiori clicked her tongue in disapproval.

'Gotta pick it up.' She thought as she ran through just how she expected things to go one last time. The warehouse wasn't anything special, no special security measures except for a suspicious number of burly looking porters still hanging around after closing time.

Just a large, timber framed building sat on stone foundations with a stone first floor, and surrounded on three sides by a walled courtyard where cargo could be lowered or lifted by means of the sky cranes that wound their way on iron rails through the branches of the Harbor Tree.

It belonged to one of the big trading houses, Shiori had discovered by quietly sitting on a bench outside and listening over the course of the day to the conversations of the men who came and went, a merchant guild that traded in luxuries. They'd done very well for themselves despite the war, though she found herself not caring very much at that moment.

Three brains and what was maybe one mind made for some very vivid idle thoughts. Thoughts on what she was about to do, and how it was more than just what she was about to do.

Maybe Faeries had better memories than humans, something in their heads had to be different to account for their senses and powers of flight after all, a human didn't have magical limbs they could just command to do as they pleased. If they were all faster and stronger and had superpowers now, why not better memories?

Or maybe it was because she saw the world through three bodies with three brains so everything she experienced was remembered three times. Either way, Shiori had found that she could perfectly recall the faces and tally of every person she'd killed, the ones she'd ended face to face anyways.

Of course, there had been others too, the crews of the patrol boats that had been swatted in the Bounty's explosion, but she'd never seen them, just a pair of warships at sail that were going to come up alongside and board, and find her if she didn't run when she did.

Seven in Tristain, the bandits she'd found after becoming what she was now, eighteen on the Brimir's bounty, sailors who she couldn't let live, and eight more in Albion when she'd gone looking for trouble rather than just stumbling into it. Thirty two, that was the number of lives she'd taken personally, without a shred of remorse, or at least, she told herself that it was without of remorse, she didn't know if it was better if it was or it wasn't.

An uneasy feeling derailed her thoughts, Sword Shiori looked all around as she made her way in the dark of an abandoned back alley. She'd shed her traveling clothes and her assumed manhood for the equipment she'd retrieved from the countryside earlier that day. It was a risk to be moving around like this inside the city, but the area was nearly abandoned in the dark, and she'd thought better of wasting her human disguise if she was spotted. The same was true for dagger Shiori who was making her way silently along the west facing side of the roofs to stay out of the moonslight.

One thing that was as clear as the faces in her minds' eye was that she hadn't hesitated on any of those occasions. She'd just lashed out with certainty. First it had been anger, hot rage that had exploded through all three of her like firecrackers and the heady rush of righteousness like a drug. Then it had been out of simple pragmatism, a coldly calculated survival strategy, and finally cold convenience.

And now she was singling out just one person to kill. She'd spent time learning who he was, and why he was important, and now she was here to end him. Heartbeat sped up and Shiori couldn't help it as her pupils widened and her breath shortened, her blood buzzing in anticipation. She'd been thinking about him all day, an unwholesome 'crush', more or less.

At least, she calmed herself. She would only be killing one person tonight. Okay, probably a couple of people, but indiscriminate slaughter wasn't her purpose here. Most of the men in the building would walk out with their lives, probably.

They'd reached their destination. Sword Shiori looked up at the stone wall that enclosed the rear courtyard while Mahou and Dagger Shiori studied the lay of the warehouse and its grounds from the sky. There were half a dozen men outside and she guessed about the same number inside the warehouse itself, milling around, mostly in the main courtyard, but a few had gone as far as climbing up onto the wall and roofs to stand watch.

Dagger Shiori's dark adjusted eyes picked them out one by one and identified each in turn. Class meant a lot to people, girls in the latest designer clothes, and men in expensive suits. What was true in Japan was true here. Whatever, if it made her job easier she wasn't going to complain. 'Commoner, commoner, mage, commoner, mage.'

She counted four commoners and two mages, and that was just the one's standing outside, there were still the others inside to worry about, along with whatever Barnard was bringing, because she couldn't imagine that the man who ran the whole city would be coming all by himself. If he didn't have plenty of guards along to keep him safe, Shiori would bite off her own tails.

'I'm not going to see what else is waiting until I get inside.' And waiting much longer would mean even more security.

It would have been nice to have slipped inside sooner, the plan had originally been to sneak inside during the last shift and find a comfy hiding place, but the sun had still been up, and these guys had been waiting around since then. Shiori had been hoping for a break in their rotations, but that wasn't going to happen either.

Time to get started.

Dagger Shiori crouched in the dark, placing her hands palms down on the roof in front of her, coiling up her legs and arching her back as she tensed from shoulders to tail and then down legs, weight resting forward on the balls of her feet. She'd gotten a feel for it by now, the athleticism that was a product of her agility and speed stats, and she'd wondered a few times since being reborn in these bodies if this was maybe like what being a cat actually felt like, small, but also strong, purged of everything that was needless.

Sword Shiori scanned her surroundings, and finding an accessible looking eave and balcony, ascended up to the roof as silent as a whisper so that she was crouched in the shelter of a chimney on the side of the warehouse opposite Dagger Shiori.

Mahou Shiori gave the surroundings one last sweep from her vantage, still no sign of Barnard.

'Let's do this.'

And then the blood and adrenaline went rushing in as Shiori felt her body uncoiling smoothly, like a well-oiled spring, from butt to thighs to calves and then out through the balls of her feet as she surged noiselessly into a sprint. Fast, fast and light on her feet, the edge of the roof was hurrying to meet her and with a last chant, whispered under her breaths by Sword and Dagger Shiori, the stealth spell she'd prepared beforehand activated and the world grew both a little dimmer and a little more distant to her ears, her hands blurring into inky darkness in front of her.

The spell Hollow Body was available only to Faeries with excellent sneaking and Darkness magic abilities. It wasn't quite true invisibility, but it was close.

In the space between steps, the already indistinct shadows of Dagger and Sword Shiori vanished almost completely from sight. Maybe if someone was alert, and paying close attention at the right time, they'd catch a wrinkle in the air, or a blurred outline, or notice that their eyes began to water if they looked at the right place for too long. But that would hardly mean a thing at night. So long as she was careful and didn't draw attention, she was as good as invisible.

Sword Shiori reached the edge of her roof ahead of Dagger Shiori and launched herself into the air, tracing a shallow trajectory over the stone wall and into a suitably secluded spot behind the mule stables. Shiori landed in a roll, body tucking in to smoothly absorb the energy as if it was the most natural thing she'd ever done.

A few of the work animals stirred from their salt lick and vegetable filled dreams for just long enough to sniff the air and shake their heads sleepily. Shiori's hearts caught and Dagger Shiori almost missed her jump. One animal in particular seemed to lift its head, long lashed eye pointing right at the wraith of a Faerie, but then, very slowly, the head dropped back down, settling comfortable on a bed of straw.

Mahou Shiori breathed a sigh for her Sword body as she dashed from shadow to shadow along the courtyard, only moving when the attention of the hired muscle was elsewhere, until she was safely situated out of sight behind a second outbuilding, what appeared to be a single floor clerical office. Sword Shiori settled down, closing her eyes, and opening her ears to listen while Dagger Shiori moved onward with the mission.

Her other self had landed lightly on the top of the wall, so silently that she didn't even draw a glance from the men walking by beneath her, and barely losing any speed at all before changing direction to light on the first floor roof of the warehouse. Wasting no time, she scampered up higher to grab hold of the eaves of the main roof and with the last of her built up momentum, swung up through an open ventilation window.

Hooking her legs on the window frame, the Cait crunched into a ball, hands grabbing hold to steady herself, before eyes picked out a promising beam and, like a gymnast performing a flawless dismount, carried through to land among the rafters of the warehouse roof.

Her motion exhausted, only when Shiori came to a full rest, and she was certain she hadn't been spotted, did she allow herself the luxury of shivering on the buzz of adrenaline flooding her veins, a rush that was unlike anything she'd ever experienced in her past life. Like most things these days, she'd been getting used to it more and more lately, more or less.

Now then, Dagger Shiori shrugged her shoulders, loosening the tension that had built up in her short dash and settled onto all fours, tail stretching out straight behind her and swaying back and forth like a balance, to see what she could see. Surveying the high ceiling, she wasn't for want of hiding places. The roof was a maze of rafters, heavily reinforced to resist the freak winds that would occasionally strike over the edge of the cliffs.

Quiet as a cat, Shiori picked her path, taking hold of beams as she stretched and squirmed and crept her way out over the center of the room where magelights were concentrated on a half dozen crates and the men supervising them. It was only five in here, two commoners and three mages. The man who made the fifth, the one who had met with Barnard's secretary, was conferring with the two other merchants and one of the commoners, a real giant of a man who looked like he'd been born to beat people to death.

"Will he be here?" One of the older mages asked the man from the tavern.

"He'll be here, I assure you sir." The merchant said. The way he shifted from one foot to the other did nothing to disguise his unease." Mister Barnard keeps a very tight schedule."

"I should hope you are correct Greaves." The first speaker said. "I assume you've heard about the latest round of hangings."

"The executions today?" 'Greaves' grimaced, resting hands atop the lid of one of the crates. "I've heard."

"And?"

"I wish I hadn't." Greaves muttered.

"Our Dear Governor appears to be finding quite a few Royal sympathizers in our fair city as of late, wouldn't you agree?" The nobles looked among themselves quietly and Shiori didn't find it hard at all to guess what they were thinking. "There've been quite a few traitors lately, all very reasonably accused of course."

Greaves declined to speak a word.

The old mage crossed his arms, either asserting himself of warding off the chill air that infiltrated the wooden structure. It was getting to Shiori too as she tugged her cloak closer around herself and wandered if a heating charm might not have been a better choice than invisibility. "It is becoming quite a bit more costly to court Mister Barnard with each passing day. I do think it is time that we begin distancing ourselves from this client."

Greaves sighed softly, the man didn't look very old, Shiori couldn't be sure, but mages seemed to stay pretty well preserved on the whole, but suddenly he seemed absolutely ancient. "Parting ways could be costly."

"Staying in ill company could be more so." The older man said. "We'll see our business concluded here, then I suggest we focus our efforts on a city with fairer winds."

"As you say, sir." Greaves bowed his head.

Shiori didn't hear what he said next, or rather, she didn't bother to think much of it as the focus of her consciousness shifted elsewhere to look through the eyes of Mahou Shiori and watch the approaching carriage and its escort of horsemen winding their way through port streets.

Guessing was unneeded as a short whistle pierced the night air, the guards standing watch reporting the new arrival.

The clashing of iron shod hooves grew loud in Sword Shiori's ears as the carriage and its escort drew up through the gate. Leading the way were four mage's in cuirass armor and riding black chargers that looked ever so slightly too big to have been entirely naturally bred, the horses spread through the courtyard, jets of steam puffing from their nostrils as riders took up watch as the carriage entered.

'Someone knows that they aren't liked.' Sword Shiori wrinkled her nose at the vehicle that had just been pulled through the gates. It was hideous for one, a rolling slab of iron and hardwood so heavy that it had been mounted on heavy wagon wheels, like somebody in this world had decided to build a horse drawn armored car.

Even the coachmen were nowhere in sight, hidden behind a slitted viewing port at the front of the contraption.

In fact, Shiori had to wonder how the pair of horses had managed to pull the thing until she realized that unlike those ridden by the guards. The yoked pair of animals had grown completely still, not even a sign of breath to show that they were alive. Golems. The Governor of Kingston sure had expensive, and paranoid, tastes.

The whistling had alerted the men waiting inside. The merchants were hurrying out to meet their arriving customer, leaving the crates guarded only by the giant and the rest of the commoners. It was tempting to sneak a peek at just what the Governor of Kingston could want that would justify this sort of clandestine meeting, but she was bound to find out before her opportunity came so she stilled herself and fought to remain patient.

The muscle brought by the merchants gave the carriage a wide berth as one of the Guards dismounted his horse and approached. His uniform and the insignia on his shoulder matched the ones worn by the Guards Shiori had seen at the gates. Some sort of an elite branch of the city watch, which meant they were probably veteran soldiers too.

And if they were veterans, then she needed to mind herself carefully, Hollow Body was not perfect invisibility, she could be seen if she got sloppy, and once somebody 'saw' her, the illusion's effects on them would be broken.

High overhead, Mahou Shiori began to softly chant a spell that would replace the one she was holding in reserve, just in case.

The guard took hold of the handle of the carriage door and pulled. Hinges creaked as the armored hardwood swung out of the way and gave access to the dimly lit interior. The first to step out into the moonslight was a man that Shiori had already seen one before, Patrick Geordy, the ash blonde man straightening his jacket before offering a hand to his master.

"Governor Barnard." Greaves and other merchants were making their way out from barely parted doors of the warehouse, Greaves pulling his jacket close while the other two older men kept themselves bundled in their coats. "It is our great honor to have your patronage tonight."

Shiori gave the man credit. He was a pretty good liar when it came right down to it. For a guy who looked like he wanted to piss his pants anyways.

The greeting was returned a moment later as the Governor of Kingston stepped down with the help of his aid, one paper white hand taken carefully by Geordy and squeezed as a bleakly dressed man revealed himself and Shiori was given reason to pause.

Learning about Dorian Barnard had not been a difficult thing, in the abstract that was. People tended to pay attention to people who could order them beheaded and that was the least of Barnard's powers as Governor of Kingston. What people hadn't thought to mention, or maybe she just hadn't thought to ask, were the exact details of the Governor's appearance.

"And my great pleasure to have you at my service, Mister Greaves, Monsieur Blanc, Monsieur Gudrun." Dorian Barnard spoke in a soft voice as he steadied himself with the help of his aid.

Bone thin, Shiori could see the swell of his wrists visible in the gap between his gloves and sleeves. Long hair that might have been brown if it hadn't been so slicked with grease, was pulled into a short ponytail and the combination of its thinness and the more general thinness of the man it was growing on created an impression of an immensely swollen head, a size too big for his body with skin pulled tightly over skull, gaunt cheeks, and dark, sunken eyes.

For a second Shiori wandered if she hadn't hit the jackpot, because there was no way he couldn't have been dead and brought back to life. On second thought, she doubted anybody would bother bringing back a corpse that would be that obvious.

His thin frame was dressed plainly for a nobleman, gray trousers and blood red blouse under dark jacket. His boots, Shiori noted, were made for riding and a silver pendant hung out of place from his neck.

This was Dorian Barnard. The master of Kingston. The man she was going to kill.

But first, she needed him for something else, the whole reason she was here after all was to learn what was inside his head. Barnard's palatial home in the wealthy quarter of the city was a fortress after all and she doubted very much she could have made it to him, much less given them a moment alone. Here, things were different, only a handful of guards, more than half of who were commoners and not even expecting a fight.

But in some ways, it was even more dangerous. This was where planning gave way to improvisation. There was no way to tell what exactly was going to happen next. So she'd watch and wait for her opening, and when it came, she'd take it.

Barnard scanned the courtyard, his features contorting into a frown. "Now then Mister Greaves, let us conclude this business. I've no stomach for this cold."

"As you wish, Governor. Everything is prepared." Greaves bowed deeply and gestured in the direction of the warehouse. Two of Barnard's guards and his secretary followed after him, leaving the carriage and its Golem horses under the watch of the remaining two and the hired muscle brought by the merchants.

Shiori kept her Sword self where she was, there was no need to move when her Dagger self was already waiting.

"Governor Barnard." The commoner guards inside the warehouse bowed deeply at Barnard's arrival, and Shiori had to wander if it was simple respect for the power of a mage or if there wasn't just a small hint of fear in particular towards the man in front of them.

Barnard raised his right hand only minutely, gesturing for his guards to send them off, the mages moving to shew them from his sight like pests. "Bothersome that you need these sorts of people, Greaves." Barnard said as he glanced upon the crates awaiting inspection, all lined up neatly. "Geordy."

"Sir." The mage at Barnard's side extracted his wand from his jacket and held the focus over his head. The chant was just gibberish spoken under his breath to Shiori, but even so, she could see the air growing heavy, the fine hairs one her arms and neck standing on edge. The next words spoken sounded thin and attenuated, barely rising above a whisper that she had to strain to catch.

'Shit.' Though, what had she expected from a clandestine meeting? Barnard was hardly lazy at least. Good, a competent mark probably knew things. Still, 'I should have bummed some equipment off Alicia.' There were a few observation items that could have come in handy about now, though like almost every disposable inventory item, short range Resonance Crystals were in very limited supply with only a tiny number making the transition and even fewer players possessing the exact combination of skills to produce them.

But she'd make the best of it, no point in missing what she didn't have, rising back up, balancing carefully with the aid of her tail, Dagger Shiori tiptoed her way through the rafters, ears on the lookout for the tiniest noise, the smallest -creak- that might reveal her position. These spells, she'd heard, had a dome-like area of effect. If she could get inside of that she'd have no trouble making out what was being said.

And . . .

"I assure you Governor, these are of the highest quality." Greaves was wiping his brow now as Barnard inspected the contents. Not that Shiori cared too much, but well . . . she was part cat now. Careful to keep her balance, the Cait leaned her Dagger body out over the empty space, looking down from high up over the shoulder of the Governor.

The interior of the crate reminded her a bit of an old container she'd seen once when Akira had visited his grandparents one summer. As a bored kid stuck out in the country with nothing more than a crappy 5G connection and his phone to keep in touch with the 'real world'.

His grandfather had said it had been used for soft drinks back when they came in glass so that the bottles would be protected. The inside of the crate was subdivided around a dozen times lengthwise and half that many width wise, forming a little over seventy little square cells that appeared to also be stacked at least a dozen deep.

Barnard was examining the contents of one of the cells when, without prompting, he reached down to remove what appeared to Shiori to be an egg made out of glass, or maybe very clear ice. The Governor of Kingston held the ovoid against the light of one of the mage-lamps and squinted through the surface which seemed to lens and ripple like a mirage. His lips parted in a smile.

"Wonderful purity, Monsieur Blanc. No silicate leaching. Well worth the money."

"So pure that they were considered the sole resource of the Royal House of Tudor. How your associates ever learned of their stockpiles I do not know and suppose do not want to know." The graying man who had been called Blanc said, his voice slowly rising. "I shouldn't have to remind you how the powers that be might feel about these falling into anyone's hands but their own."

Barnard only appeared to be half listening as he answered. "Monsieur Blanc, you speak of rules that apply to other people."

"Some of us here aren't other people." Blanc growled and elicited worried looks from Greaves and Gudrun, the other merchants looked torn between gagging him or begging forgiveness from the Governor.

"Evrett . . ." Gudrun grabbed the other man by the elbow only to be shrugged off.

"You could fly a First Rater for year on those nonstop." Blanc said with an air of conspiracy. "Or a fleet of First and Second Rates for a Campaign. Possession could be seen as tantamount to plans of rebellion."

That at last put an icy end to Barnard's smile, the Governor raising a brow archly as he turned his attention fully on Blanc. Whatever courage had caused the man to speak, shriveled now under the weight of his employer's glare.

"Let me make this clear to you, Monsieur Blanc, I do not need your opinions on matters, I require only your cooperation, your resources, and your confidentiality as an intermediary. If you cannot provide all three then I shall have no more use of you. And you will soon find that certain rules that do not apply to me . . ." A ghost of Barnard's smile returned " . . . Most definitely apply to you. Or have you forgotten that none of this was ever approved by the authorities. I'll remind you that you liked the money when you didn't have to pay tariffs."

Entrapment, Shiori mused, watching as all three merchants paled. If Barnard hadn't been such a key player in Reconquista, she'd could have respected that sort of cold blooded double cross.

Blanc and Gudrun turned their attention to Greaves who more and more was looking like the man who'd gotten them into this mess. "But . . ."

"Quiet Lad." Gudrun raised a meaty hand held wide and sighed heavily. He seemed to be the level heady among the three, settling with a resigned expression as he turned back to Governor Barnard. "How much then, Governor, to lift this albatross from our necks?"

"Shrewd as always, Monsieur Gudrun." Barnard's expression grew less hostile. "Take heart, you'll profit well from this, and gain favor with the Good Lord Cromwell besides. Our Lord is in need of men who can supply what he requires in these turbulent times. We will require the use of as many of your ships and caravans as you can make ready post haste."

All three men stiffened together. "Trade Caravans? Overland then?"

"And by air as well." Barnard said. "It matters little. They'll all be bound for Londinium."

Faced with a lousy deal, the three came to the same conclusion. "Cargo?" Blanc asked.

"Nothing particularly arduous, simply some valuable symbols of the old regime being returned to their rightful place. Weight of a few dozen stone apiece, and of course, their guards." Barnard waved his hand vaguely as if this was all the explanation that was needed. "I'm sure you can arrange for the journey by the day after next."

"Gudrun?" Blanc glanced to the other senior merchant.

"Aye." He ran hands through a thick beard. "It can be done, though it'll be a short turn around on the Bella Luna."

"Able will want the work." Blanc insisted, not looking at Barnard at all, he added. "With this we'll wash our hands I presume?"

"Not only that, it will prove your loyalty in the eyes of the Good Lord Cromwell. You will have nothing else to fear, I assure you." Barnard's smile could almost have been called beneficent, Shiori thought, if hadn't just been showing off how much of a snake he really was.

"Then we can be ready." Blanc said after some contemplation.

Barnard clapped his hands together. "Marvelous! Captain Vilby." The Governor waved one of his men back within the shelter of the silencing spell. "Sir?"

"Please see to it that the cargo is moved to my residence at once, the cellar with these ones. That will be all, thank you."

The Guard Saluted. "Sir!"

"I do believe this concludes our business for now, Mister Greaves, Monsieur Blanc, Monsieur Gudrun. Let us have a drink when next we meet to commemorate a successful partnership." The merchant's nodded slowly, if they were thinking like her Shiori suspected they'd expect their drinks to be poisoned.

"Geordy." Barnard turned on his heel and made back for the warehouse door, Shiori following through the rafters. The bubble must have worked both ways, because as soon Barnard and his secretary left its area, the Governor was talking again.

"Now as you were saying, all of the arrangements have been made. Correct? The source is reliable?"

"We've gott'im, Sir." Geordy said quietly. "We know where Greer sleeps."

The Governor stopped in his tracks, his lips peeled back in a vicious grin. "That man has been a thorn to me and the Good Lord Cromwell for too long. Bastard that he is, it should have been me to take our Father's title. Not that . . . disinherited." The last word spat out with so much venom it impressed even the spiteful soul of Shirotaka Akira. But unlike Akira, that anger cooled quickly, the Governor ran a hand through his thin hair. "I want his head tonight Geordy. On a stick."

The secretary nodded as he returned his wand to his coat and touched his hand to a glittering hilt half hidden at his side. "With pleasure."

"Get it done. I want know blights when I leave for business in Londinium." Barnard continued on his way out, now alone, he was returning to his carriage, Shiori realized, alone. And with that, she saw the opportunity she'd been waiting for.

Sword Shiori had not been idle while Barnard saw to his business, she'd crept her way far enough through the shadows to inspect the carriage, and having done so, she'd come across an interesting fact. The coachmen . . . there were no coachmen. Which made a degree of sense if the horses were golems, after all, if Barnard just had to give them instructions directly, why even bother with a driver.

Which meant he'd be alone on the trip back, more or less. Well . . . less . . . Shiori thought as sword Shiroi crept towards the still open coach door and crawled silently up into the pitch black within, the smell of leather and brandy assaulting her senses. She ignored them as she lifted herself up into the overhead luggage she'd spied and pulled her cloak tightly around herself.

It wasn't long before the carriage rocked on its suspension, Barnard settling heavily on the seat beneath her.

Leaning forward, the Governor kicked the front wall of the carriage and shouted. "Aye, back home you stupid lumps of brass!"

A moment's pause before the Golem horses jerked to life, the Wagon beginning to rock as they set off. Two of the Guards follow while two more remained behind. Barnard probably felt safe with just two soldiers in the heart of his own city. Idiot.

Dagger Shiori was moving to follow across the roofs now while Mahou Shiori stood slowly and began to tightrope walk back along the stiff branch. She'd meet back up with her other selves shortly. In the meantime, it was quite a ways though the winding streets back to Barnard's abode, she'd have plenty of time to get what she wanted.